Maybe I Can Let You Go
by dragonlord715
Summary: He could never say his name anymore, not without remembering. And he didn't want to. Minho couldn't help but wish that Newt had let him carry him all the way to Paradise. I wrote this when I should have been sleeping, please don't judge and read.


**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to James Dashner and none to me. **

**(A/N: Please read and review!)**

A couple months after reaching Paradise, Minho started dating Sonya. It was a nice, he thinks. But that was it. No fire, nothing. Eventually, they broke up after Minho realized it wasn't fair to Sonya or to _him. _He could never say his name anymore, not without remembering. And he didn't want to. Minho pretended it wasn't so, because he couldn't.

(couldn't handle remembering his beautiful blond hair and those eyes which always seemed to bore into him.)

A smile on his face and a confident attitude made others believe he was okay and they were going to be okay. Of course, it was all a facade.

(how could Minho be okay when _he _wasn't there.)

Only Thomas really noticed something was wrong. _That shank was always too smart for his own good. _Thomas was always the first one to ask,

"Are you okay, Minho?"

"I'm fine slinthead, now get back to work."

And he did, only shooting Minho worried glances every now and then. Minho ignored them.

(Minho didn't need to be babied. he just needed _him_ here by his side, needed to see the smirk that spread across his face whenever Minho messed up. Minho realized he would never see that smile again.)

Minho ran to an oak tree after yelling at Thomas. He knew it was unfair to Thomas, but he couldn't cope right then. Thankfully, Thomas knew better than to run after him. He beat the bark of this tree, until his knuckles were torn up with splinters in the flesh. _I can't even feel it. _Cold, empty numb feeling engulfed him as he washed his hands in the stream, the water taking the blood and small pieces of wood away. _I wish the water could take me away...or my problems... _

"Minho?" Thomas asked, hesitantly. Minho just stared ahead, at the foliage. Thomas sat by him.

"I killed him." Thomas said, almost whispering but not quite. But Minho already knew that. They didn't make him the Keeper of the Runners for nothing. He knew.

"I know."

"W-w-what?"

"Come on, shank, we have work to do." Thomas, blissfully, didn't argue.

(Minho knew. and he wished he didn't. didn't know that his best friend had taken _him _away and yet Minho was so selfish as to wish he was still here. that Thomas hadn't done _it. _Minho couldn't say it. never say that he was gone. forever.)

Minho woke up, breathing heavily. It was always the same nightmare. Minho was in a field of grass, the sun shining on his face. And there _he was_, on the other side, looking positively ethereal and an aureole already around his head. _He _had been calling to him. Beckoning and giggling. The sight of it made Minho smile and yell out to him.

"You laughing at me, shank?" _He _shook his head, and pointed at his head, still giggling.

_I never thought you'd have flowers in your hair, Min. _

"Slim it." Minho said, trooping through the grass towards _him. _

And then the clouds came. Again. They started covering the sky. And _he _started fading.

_Hurry, Minho. Please. _

So Minho ran. He ran on and on towards _him. _But the clouds covered _him and he was gone just as Minho reached him. _Minho cried out _his _name once.

(and it was gone. It was all gone and _he _wasn't there but Minho was. and Minho knew he should be grateful that we was here, but couldn't help but wish he'd wake up with _him _by his side.)

He woke up from the dream, gasping and dry-heaving. And he did that for a while, still drenched in sweat. And then he cried. Sobbed, for the first time since they reached Paradise. Minho could vaguely feel Thomas coming to sit next to him, and one hand supported him. It helped, but it didn't change _that _fact. Slowly, he stopped, hiccuping softly, before even that ceased. Thomas said nothing, only looking at Minho worried. Minho ignored him.

(I feel freer but I shouldn't. I didn't take _him_ with me. I should've dragged _his_ arse all the way to Paradise.)

It was the same dream. Yet different.

The same plain. The same field. And there _he _was. Minho ran towards him and was embraced. Minho sobbed in _his _arms and was comforted.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've dragged you here. I-"

_Shh, Minho. I'm fine. And you will be too. I'm sorry too. _

Minho looked helplessly up at his face. He was fading away again, the light shining brighter and brighter in the background.

"I.. I forgive you, sunshine." _He _laughed and stroked Minho's cheek.

_Thank you. _

And he was gone and when Minho woke up, there were tears in his eyes and he could still feel _his lips _brushing Minho's forehead.

(please come back. I forgave you but I can't let you go yet. but maybe I can but I don't want to.)

"Are you feeling alright, Minho?" Thomas asked him that evening. Minho looked at Thomas and smiled.

"Yeah."

That night was the first time since reaching Paradise that Minho had slept without nightmares.

(maybe I can let you go. maybe i'll see you later. maybe I can finally say your name.)

_Newt. _

(**A/N: Sorry-not sorry. Please R&amp;R!)**


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